Jean est un Neuneu
by armout-armin
Summary: Armin loves languages, and Jean is a complete moron. I'm sorry, let's see how completely cliché I can be, all right?


Jean is a dork. There's some French in this one, and translations are at the bottom. Sorry, I'm procrastinating (on my French homework, oddly enough) so I accidentally wrote this because I am trash.

* * *

It was, Jean decided, way too fucking cold.

Winter had hit full force at the beginning of the new semester, and Jean was not loving it. It was wet and windy and fucking _freezing_, and having to walk across campus in 20 degree weather was just not his cup of tea. Jean pulled his scarf further up over his face as a particularly forceful gust of wind blew past him. He came to a crosswalk and slammed his fist impatiently against the button a few times.

"I don't think that's going to make it change faster."

Jean spun around towards the familiar voice and saw Armin Arlert standing behind him. He was bundled up in what looked like three jackets, he had a beanie pulled over his head, his hair was whipping around his face, and his upturned nose was bright red.

Armin chuckled. "Are you going to class?"

Jean shook his head as he examined the small boy next to him. "Nah, I just finished for the day."

Armin nodded. "Me too. Are you busy? I could use some coffee to warm me up."

Jean blinked. He hadn't spent time with Armin in a while. At the beginning of the semester, they hung out quite a bit, but everything had gotten a little crazy during finals. He had always liked Armin though, and he even had a bit of a crush on him for a while (Jean kind of had a thing for glasses and guys with long hair), so he figured it would be nice to catch up again. "Yeah, sure," he replied, nodding.

Armin beamed up at him and Jean smiled nervously back. The light changed and the two continued on across the road.

"What class were you in?"Armin asked.

Another gust of wind picked up and Jean shrunk further into his coat. "French," he said through gritted teeth. He noticed that Armin looked particularly chilled, and momentarily considered offering his scarf, but Armin continued to speak.

"Oh, okay. Didn't you used to live in France?"

"Yeah, we were there for a little while. My mom taught English in Grenoble for a few years."

Armin nodded. Jean realized Armin was trotting to keep up with his own long strides, so he slowed his pace a bit. The wind was finally starting to die down and Armin's hair had stopped flying around so crazily. "That's cool. So how long did you live there?"

Jean glanced over to the curious blond boy walking beside him. His cheeks were bright red, and his breath was visible in the frigid January air. "Well, we moved over there when I was two, and we came back here when I turned 14."

"That's so neat!" Armin said excitedly as he dodged a biker coming down the sidewalk, and Jean laughed to himself. 'Neat'? What a dork. A very cute dork. "So are you still pretty fluent in the language?" When Jean nodded, Armin's big blue eyes lit up behind his foggy glasses. "Would you mind saying something in French for me?"

Jean groaned internally. He got this question all the time. Everyone always wanted to hear him say something in French, but he never quite understood the fascination. Plenty of people spoke French, so how was it any more interesting when Jean did it? Usually he just settled for something like _'Non, je ne te dirai rien, sac à merde.,'_ or even just _'Va te faire foutre,'_ but honestly, he didn't think he would mind demonstrating for Armin. He looked at the boy for a moment, then said, "_Tes yeux sont bleus comme l'océan, mais bien plus beaux."_ Whoa, wait. Where did that come from?

He looked down at Armin to gauge his reaction, and the boy smiled widely. "French is such a beautiful language," he said excitedly. It seemed like Armin hadn't understood what he had said. Jean let out a sigh of relief. "Would you mind saying something else? I'm sure you get tired of people asking, but I love the language so much."

Jean smiled slightly. He didn't think he could ever say no to Armin. "All right…" Jean thought for a moment as the pair paused on the sidewalk, and he could feel Armin's curious gaze on him the whole time. "Okay. Here. _Tes cheveux sont aussi beaux que tes yeux, mon cher, et tu es si intelligent et charmant. J'aime bien passer du temps avec toi_." He did his best to hide his blush. It felt good to say that out loud, even if Armin didn't underst-

_"J'aime aussi beaucoup être avec toi, Jean."_

Jean stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to look at Armin, who was wearing the most devious smirk Jean had ever seen.

"But you - "

"I know."

"You told me - "

"Yep."

"So that means - "

_"Ouais."_

Jean groaned. He could feel his face heating up. He wanted to curl up in a ball and never look at Armin again. Holy fuck, that kid was sneaky. He should have realized Armin would speak French. He probably spoke ten other languages, too.

To his left, Armin was laughing at Jean's floundering. "I'm sorry, Jean. I really did like hearing you talk… I just wanted to know what you would say to me." He smirked._ "Enfin, peu importe tout cela,"_ he began, grabbing the front of Jean's coat and slowly pulling him down closer, _"je trouve que ce que tu as dit était très mignon, et je t'aime beaucoup."_

Jean sputtered for a moment, trying to think of something smooth to say in response. Before he could form words, however, Armin silenced him with a slow, soft kiss. Jean could feel warmth spreading through him despite the freezing air, starting at his stomach and working its way to his fingertips. Armin pulled back slowly, still smiling as he looked at Jean through his glasses. Jean stood there for a moment, still shocked and revelling in the temporary warmth, before he put his hands on Armin's sides and pulled him back in for another kiss. Armin gasped slightly, and now it was Jean's turn to smile. He felt like he was floating. He forgot momentarily about the wind and the cold and the crowded campus sidewalks and let himself focus on the soft lips and the fluttering in his stomach… until a car honked and Armin jumped.

Jean blinked and Armin laughed nervously, his cheeks now flushed from embarrassment as well as the cold, and he said, _"Putain, il fait froid. _Let's get inside_."_ He laced their fingers together and tugged him into the warmth of the coffee shop, turning to look back at Jean with his bright blue eyes and red-tipped nose and lopsided cheeky smirk.

* * *

Just because I've taken French for 4 years doesn't mean I'm a great at it. If any translations are wrong, let me know. **Edit: **thanks to Kandamio for correcting my shitty translations. We didn't really learn much about cursing in my French classes haha. Plus I'm just horrible at French so thanks for helping me fix it! Translated here in the order they appear in the story.

_-No, I'm not going to speak for you, you sack of shit._

_-Go fuck yourself._

_-Your eyes are blue like the ocean, but they are more beautiful._ (I know, What a cheesy motherfucker.)

-_Your hair is also as pretty as your eyes, my dear, and you are so intelligent and charming. I love spending time with you._

_-I really like being with you, too, Jean._

_-Yeah._

_-Anyways, I think that what you said was very sweet, and I like you a lot._

_-Fuck, it's cold._


End file.
